


One Last Breath

by gukptune



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games, Angst, Brutality, Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Murder, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 22:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19711051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gukptune/pseuds/gukptune
Summary: Twenty five years after the fall of the second rebellion comes the fourth quarter quell. two different people from two different worlds stand out like sore thumbs within the pool of tributes―catching the eyes of others, sponsors and most importantly…each-other.





	One Last Breath

The dreadful day has come again, the day that many feared, despised, suffered from—the reap, the games.

Your district, a powerful one, important to the Capitol, stood with the president even to your dismay. Again comes the grim day, the skies had turned a dark gray, even nature was unhappy.

It was visible to you, outside your home the tides roared with anger and hatred for the reap, you could hear the planes and jets ripping the sky open forewarning to you to ready.

Your mother had knew the day would come, the day that you’d step ahead and join the games. Your whole life was built on this, this game. Your mother hadn’t cared much for the chance of her child’s death, of course she didn’t, you were her eldest of four. Your father had died during the games before you were born, your mother had remarried and birthed more children for her pathetic husband. 

The two of them agreed that to better the finances of their family that you should enter the career training and provide for them when you’d win the games, if you would.It was good for them, apparently, truly it was one less mouth to feed even if your district was drowned with food. They didn’t want to bother with you, mother must’ve hated you—she loved the others and would never want them to join the games. Maybe it was because you reminded her of father so much, she was angry that he left her, yet here she was forcing you away.

You were never home anymore, when you were five you were sent to the career camp, living your life training with your fellow future tributes—with the occasional visit from your family, mother and her husband standing by the gates as your kind siblings would embrace you with their love.

But today was different, you were home, readying up for the reap—for the quarter quell.You were uneasy, feeling tense, what could the twist be this time—which twist will be chosen from the glass of many.

Without a word spoken you got on your stupid dress and forwarded towards the courtyard, all the children settled in their spots as well as you. Your younger brother had reached the age of reap and he stood with the boys, looking over at you worry in his eyes. He was worried, why, there was no reason to be, many careers lurked amongst the crowd and never had a child in your district be chosen by force.

The Capitol’s representative had made her way up the stage, looking over the crowd with an obnoxious grin, “Welcome, welcome.”

You could already sense the annoyance she had caused amongst the crowd, people kicking at the pebbles by their feet or rolling their eyes. All you could think was: Uh, get to the point.

“I welcome you all to the reap of the Annual Hunger Games! This year is a little different, as you all may know this year marks the hundredth year since the fall of the Rebels, which means that this year is our fourth Quarter Quell!” Her high pitched voice scratches your ear drums with such pain that makes you wince.

She continues after she pauses for you to take in what she had said, “You all look very young, must’ve missed the last Quarter Quell. During a Quarter Quell the President shall pick a twist that changes up the reap, exciting isn’t it!”

With that you see the screen behind her light up with the Capitol’s anthem. You shifted your weight, kicking out your legs from standing for this long.

“Now let’s listen as our President joins us.”

The music plays for a few seconds before you could see the face of your relatively new president. President Snow, which is Coriolanus Snow’s son who was born just before his father’s death. Many could say the previous President was cruel, his son was no different.

“Thank you, thank you all.” You could hear the cheering through the speakers, which means that the President had an audience of very excited citizens of the Capitol, lucky them.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! This is the hundredth year of the Hunger Games.” The man spoke as with such pride and excitement, the type of pride and excitement that was only felt in the Capitol.

Other districts alike yourself, apart of the alliance has benefits. You didn’t hate the Capitol but you wouldn’t help but dislike the delusional retards that live there. Little do they know they’re easily played by the President.

“It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty five years there would be a quarter quell, to keep fresh for each new generation—the memory of those who died and the uprisings against the Capitol,” he spoke with such authority and venom laced in his tongue as he spoke about the rebels, “Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance and now on the hundredth Anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the fourth Quarter Quell—”

Cheers, claps and joy from the audience was loud and clear. A large glass sphere was brought out with what seemed like hundreds of folded parchment, all written with different twists made by the game-makers.

The President reached his hand into the sphere, his hand all the way to the bottom. He grins as he pulls his hand out with a choice in it. He waves the paper around as the crowd roared with excitement, you were excited to, twists are always a new change to the games.

You’ve watched nearly all the previous games, most being exciting. It was normal for the other Careers to not fear the games too, your whole life trained for the games. The only thing you worried about were the other tributes but when you watched the games, the Career pack managed to outwit each other instead of out-power, and you’d say you’ve got a lot of wits.

The President opened the paper, and began to read out the writing, “—as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest amongst them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this—the fourth Quarter Quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped—only through volunteering.”

The crowd grew silent within an instant, you could sense the air shifting as the children lessened with worry. An Career district were cheering inside, it was easy, the most capably at the time would volunteer and you knew this year it would be you. 

Yet, at the back of your mind you wondered how the other districts would do, how they would every come to a conclusion, maybe there wouldn’t even be a choice. God, who would ever volunteer to die.

“But of course, I wouldn’t imagine many of you would think of volunteering but you must—or the game would not happen, and without a game how would we remind the rebels that due to their ways their children must suffer their consequences—suffer the consequences of the actions of which their foolish, grandparents and parents did,” there wasn’t a cheer after this, the crowd seemed shocked to say the least, “Without a volunteer of a male and female tribute from each District, the District shall be punished—punished by the hour, with each hour the punishment getting worse until someone breaks and does the right thing. I’d hope we wouldn’t have to come to that, happy reaping, and may the odds be every in your favour.”

As the screen shuts off, you could hear the clapping, no cheering. The smug face on the President could possibly anger so many that feared losing their child or their own lives but not here, here it was easier, but still who in their right mind would want to jump into death—not even you, but what were you going to do, the right thing.

As the representative stepped back into the centre of the stage you could see her give the crowd a nervous smile, “Well, then. We’re going to need a male and female tribute from District four, let’s take a female volunteer first shall we?”

You blankly stared back at the woman, who waved her hand about as if welcoming whoever would step out, of course that person would be you. It was agreed upon before the Reap began, since forever really. You’d have a time frame of which you may have to volunteer as tribute, this year just so happened that your mentor decided you were ready.

The ground crunched loudly through the silence, as the woman’s face lit up as you stepped out of the crowd, “I volunteer.”

“Ah! There she is, come bring her up.”

The guards shining in white escorted you up without another word, it was the usual. Nothing new around your district during the reap, it was an illegal practice for careers to exist but of course, having connections to the Capitol allowed anything to get by.

“What a beautiful girl, what’s your name dear?” The woman eased you towards the microphone as you got up the stairs.

“Y/n.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” The crowd clapped, as the woman took you away from the microphone to announce the boys.

You were pretty sure who’d be your partner, it was agreed.

“Now for the boys, I’d like—”

“I volunteer!” The crowd ripped their head around to the boy who interrupted.

Are you fucking kidding. He’s—this wasn’t his year, what was he doing. Your chosen district partner was shocked, he looked around for our mentor who didn’t say a word at all, he only looked at the boy making his way up the stage with a grin on his face.

“Oh, of course, come then let’s introduce you.”

As the boy took his stance up close to the microphone you were confused to say the least, “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Cute name for a cute boy,” she compliments again, ushering you over to stand next to him.

Which you did as you kept looking over, wondering what was going through the damn boy’s head. He stood there proud for some reason, smiling ear to ear like a freak.

“There we have it, our tributes for the hundredth Hunger Games, good luck within the Quarter Quell children—there are always twists in the game, may the odds be ever in your favour.”

The crowd repeated her last line as it repeated in your head like an ominous hymn.

image

Within the victor’s camp you two marched towards the main building for your mentor, ready to leave for the Capitol in an hour.

Blasting the door open you ran towards your mentor, screaming your ears off, “Why did he volunteer? He wasn’t suppose to volunteer this year!”

The victor of the eighty-second Hunger Games, Min Yoongi of District Four places his drink down on the table with a blank expression, “I don’t know, y/n, he just did it.”

“Why did you do it?” This time you directed the question to him, Taehyung.

The boy looked over at Yoongi before he looks back at you, shrugging, “I wanted to be in the Quarter Quell, nothings wrong with that.”

He sat himself down, rolling his shoulders out, you couldn’t believe it. How were you suppose to win the games with a twat like him, who’s so overly narcissistic and self centred—the boy who refused to pick a female partner to train with and trained all by himself. A selfish prick.

“He’s going to get me killed.” You pointed at him.

Yoongi sighs, getting up of his seat, he places his hands on your shoulder looking into your eyes, “We both know, you’re best fit to win the game. He’s not a worry for you, he won’t pull you down, he’s good on his own. He’s fast, light and will hide well, you on the other hand—you can take people down and that’s what you’re going to do, that’s what your whole life worked towards—killing everyone in the game.”

“We have no worries for most districts. You have the Career pact, use your charm, your wits, y/n. Manipulate them, make them fall for you, them and the people of the Capitol—then rip them out from underneath. We’ll get a message of the tributes soon, mostly from the Career Districts—I’d imagine it’ll take a while for the rest to push someone into killing themselves,” Yoongi walked towards the desk as he held up a tablet, “One, Two, Four, you’ll make the boys want you—make the girls want to be you or be scared of you. The rest well, they don’t stand a chance.”

Yoongi looked tapped his fingers against the screen, awaiting the messages, yet he seemed reluctant, worried.

“But I do fear for more twists, they’d do anything to make the games interesting. Don’t let your guard down, both of you, make friends, make enemies, know who you can trust, want to trust, want to kill.”

With that Taehyung looked towards you and nodded.

image

“We could pretend to be lovers,” Taehyung spoke, he kicked his feet up to prop against the table in between you two as you sat quietly in the train, “Like those stupid twelves years ago, who even believed that shit.”

You chuckled, wondering the same thing, maybe he wasn’t so bad. He was realistic, at least.

“We could pretend to hate each other,” You suggested, “During the training we make alliances with different people, making them thing we’d want each other dead first and then we make them kill each other.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, he twirled the knife in his hand stopping as he grinned, “I like that, I think we’ll get along very well.”

“I think so too.”

image

“You all remember what I’ve said right?” Yoongi watched as the two of you nod, “This is your first day of training, make it count.”

He stands back and he allows the two of your to enter into the training room. Littered with tributes chit chatting, training, picking on eachother. The tributes all sported the same outfit, very skin-tight athletics wear in different cuts. Some wore shorts, some wore pants, some had long sleeves, some had short sleeves. 

You opted for sleeveless, and loose pants, all in black and your arm guards that laced your fingers like gloves and ran up to your underarm, with the elbows being much more flexible. Reminiscent of swimmer’s wear, it helped you with being faster in the water keeping your body tight, though the pants were a comfort choice—it wouldn’t be legible for the games being so loose and able to get caught on things.

As you both entered you saw the rest of the tributes look at you, immediately getting into the role you glared at Taehyung as you left his side. Him seemingly growling and also going away.

Great job.

You had it set out, maybe you’d intimidate, then see who you’d like to create a pact with—even if there was an automatic alliance with the Careers you weren’t so sure you’d let them free load so easily, as you looked at the tributes sporting the numbers they looked back seemingly giving you a nod, especially the boys.

You looked away, your way towards an empty mat, getting on your bum you began to stretch out. Fully splitting and taking out all the tight spots. Your eyes were closed for the most part, trying to feel it out, then you felt some sort of presence. A weight shifted the mat and you whipped your head towards it, making the culprit bolt back.

District thirteen. A godly pathetic District in the eyes of everyone.

You were surprised to see the boy so fit, muscle in all the right places and slim in all the good places too. His doe eyes blinking as he tries to catch his breath, you looked around to see no one was getting a look at this bold thirteen getting all up in your space.

“What do you want?” You spat, glaring at him as you began to stretch your waist.

He clears his throat, pointing at your body lazily, “You’re doing it wrong.”

Your raised your eyebrow at him, stopping in your tracks.

“The way you’re stretching, it’s only going to make you more tense,” He explained, you dropped your shield, seeing that he was stepping closer.

You opted to make friends first then, “So what am I doing wrong?”

“You’re—uh, putting against the muscle, you should pull with it—” He sat down next to you, feeling the heat that came off his sweaty body, he must’ve been training for a while already, “—can I?”

He motioned towards you with his hands out, he wanted to show you how. You didn’t argue, letting the boy do what he wants. He mumbled a cute thank you, pulling you at the waist flush against him boldly.

Your breath hitched, hoping no one was seeing this. He eases you into the position he sees fit and well, it was kind of better. You couldn’t feel your muscle fighting you and instead feeling your muscle relax under his touch.

After a few minutes of this, he finished, stopping as his hands stayed put around you.

“I’m Jungkook, from District Thirteen, and you are?” He asked you.

Making you feel as if this was all a part of a plan. You turned to face the boy, your face merely a few centimetres away from his own, “An alliance you want, right?”

His face froze for a second, knowing that you already saw right through him.

“You don’t want an alliance with me, nor my district partner. If you know who I am I don’t make friends, I make a list of those I want to kill. Your mentor may think that being in my pact makes your chances better, it doesn’t you’re better off hiding until the game’s over—”

“You’re a career, of course being in your pact would make my chances better,” He interrupts, again boldly, “This may mean nothing to you, but I at least want to hope I can make it to the end—to win maybe, to go home and help my family.”

His words struck you, you completely forgot that these tributes all volunteered—every year there would be an unlucky tribute from each District that got chosen but this year, he put himself here—why would he do that if he knows he’s needed at home.

“You know how it went right? We all had to volunteer…it may have been easy for you but I didn’t want to be here…” You could see his eyes wavering, you just kept quiet listening to him, “No one volunteered at first, then they took our water, then our food, they beat our old and then they began to execute them—think of that, killing our family because we didn’t want to die.”

His ears ran freely down his face at this point, you wanted to, you really wanted to just wash them away. Somehow help him, somehow just give him hope—but it was the Hunger Games, people win or they die, it was just the truth.

Before you could usher another word, those previous Career boys came up to you guys, snickering and laughing, “Look at that, a twelve trying to get a four on his side, how sad, did it work?”

District one, Jung Hoseok, a man of such a vile tongue and cocky attitude, you looked between the two, choosing a side. You shrugged, getting up and pushing Jungkook’s hand away from you, “Not really.”

You made your way towards Hoseok, who smirked with his arms out to embrace you. You pushed your back against his front as he wrapped his hand around your waist, his head leaning against your shoulder, “Did you feel bad, about it, about how they killed all those wastes of space.”

“No—they deserved it, why would you rebel against the Capitol. They died because they made mistakes, I wish they would’ve killed more of you, pity they’d have to waste such a potential like you to sacrifice himself for those old pieces of shit’s mistakes.” Your vile tongue slipped out, knowing that it would hurt him but you needed to make Hoseok know, he can trust you.

“No one forced me, I—”

“They did though, because if you didn’t volunteer, I bet no one else would and you’d feel bad for letting people die. At least you had honour, I watched your reap, you’re the only brave one—even your bitch of a district partner had to be dragged up the stage and forced to join before more casualties could occur, pathetic.”

You didn’t stay to see him respond. Hearing the laughter that came out of Hoseok’s lips was enough to take your mind of the damn Thirteen. You can’t be having your heart pick your allies during a game like this, no.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed! Follow me @gukptune on tumblr for more fics and updates! I update on here way late!


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